


Strange

by DictionaryWrites2



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Affection, Banter, Kissing, M/M, Weird Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 08:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites2/pseuds/DictionaryWrites2
Summary: Crowley's body was strange.





	Strange

Crowley’s body was...  _strange_. 

Aziraphale had known this since the Beginning, that there were odd elements to his body, in the aftermath of Eden, in seeing him in one body and then the next. He had his preferences, when it came to certain facial features, or certain shapes to his body, but beyond those, there was... 

His body  _rippled_  with muscle, strange muscle, inhuman muscle that stacked thickly on the shapely lines of his body, and oh, how  _strangely_  it moved. Aziraphale’s body was odd, he knew that - he forgot to blink, at times, and he didn’t always remember to make himself quite so human as he ought, but Crowley’s was always roughly human, but... odd.

It was odd now, and Aziraphale watched him, his book laid gently in his lap, his chin resting on his palm. 

Crowley didn’t do yoga. It would be silly to call it that, because there was no real method to it, not one that might be associated with the practice of yoga, in any case, but there was stretching. Crowley stretched right backward, leaning with his palms sliding back against his thighs, his spine curving strangely as he went further back, and further back again. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, and Crowley turned his head to look at him, but then let his body fall back with him, falling onto his hands and then landing delicately into a bridge, somersaulting over with not even a shake in his body, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “Come here.”

Crowley sauntered forward, and Aziraphale reached for him, sliding his hands up and over Crowley’s thighs, pressing down and feeling the taut, thick muscle underneath, ropey and  _strange_. Humans had more give in them, normal flesh, but not Crowley’s. It felt strange, but wonderful, and Aziraphale leaned forward, pressing his lips to the strange, flat expanse of Crowley’s belly. That was strange, too - Aziraphale had long suspected that Crowley did something strange with his organs, that he folded some of them away as non-essential, because his belly was just  _too_  flat, and slightly square.

He’d kept the hourglass figure he’d taken on back when such things were fashionable, and Aziraphale slid his fingers up either side of his skinny waist, tracing the exaggerated curve up to his chest. On a human, he’d be able to feel the rib cage - not the individual ribs, necessarily, but the cage of them... On Crowley, all he felt was more muscle, slightly hard, and he pressed a kiss to the slight dip of Crowley’s navel.

Crowley had  _laboured_  over that navel, making sure it dipped in but not  _too_  far, making sure it looked perfectly symmetrical, perfectly handsome. Aziraphale had never bothered to have one, himself - at Crowley’s behest, he had a slight shadow in the right place, but he didn’t bother with the funny, knotted skin there, like real people had.

“Do you think I’m monstrous, angel?” Crowley asked lazily, and Aziraphale wrapped his arms about Crowley’s body, tracing his fingers from Crowley’s tailbone up his spine and feeling the dozens of thin, flexible vertebrae under his fingers as he ran his way up them.

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale murmured, with a warm and indulgent smile. “Utterly beastly, my dear.”

“Good,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale grabbed at his hips, pressing down on the hard flesh and nipping at his stomach, down to the exaggerated divot at one side of his hip, and Crowley groaned low in his throat, his fingers tangling in Aziraphale’s hair.

“You serpent,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“Lemme sit in your lap,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale beamed up at him, his mouth hidden against Crowley’s hip, but he assented, leaning back in his chair and allowing Crowley to slither over his thighs, curling his arms about Aziraphale’s neck. “I’m a  _monster_ ,” Crowley purred in his ear. “A nasty, bestial  _thing_.”

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale said mildly, albeit without much conviction.

“And don’t you forget it.”

“I could never, dear.”

Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck, nuzzling against it, and Aziraphale felt the flicker of a distinctly snakish tongue flick against his skin. He couldn’t help but smile, and turn his head to kiss Crowley on the mouth. 


End file.
